Double Standards & The Fact I’m Probably Going to Hell

I just got off of work and pissed off as all get out, mostly at myself. This will be an interesting post. 

I hate how much I hate myself. Seriously. Never good enough, skinny enough, happy enough, quiet enough. I say the wrong things all the time, do shitty things. What gets me though, is the double standard. I mean this in a few ways. I’m jealous of the girls that pull off and wear the cutest things, whether they are smaller than me or twice my size. I lack their confidence and I am so jealous of that. I want to dress cute, feel confident and happy in my own skin; but no. I hate myself too much for any of that. 

The next double standard has to do with my best friend, Emily. She knows about my eating disorder for a while, read a few posts back about the mexican food if you don’t remember. Anyway, Emily struggles with depression. When explaining my eating disorder to her I compared the comment of “Just eat” to someone telling her to just “Be happy”. That seemed to resonate with her. So, for weeks, months, years, I have always heard her cry, fuss, whine, moan, bitch, complain. Everything from being single, to the school she goes to, to her nose, etc. I have listened, and tried to help. Today was a difficult day, I’m not sure what it was, but today just sucked. As I was leaving work I was trying to vent to her. She took the other person’s side, didn’t even try and let me finish my story, and when I finally gave up I said “Right now all I want to do is go home and throw my guts up until I have a heart attack.”  She didn’t try to help, stop me, anything. She said some smart ass comment under her breath and got in her car.

So you will sit there, bitch and moan and I will listen to you cry over the fact that you have never had a boyfriend, but I’m not allowed to vent?!?! I hate that I don’t have anyone to turn to. I hate that I hate myself. 

Next topic, is the fact that I am probably going to hell. Some lady came in today, the first thing that I noticed was how thin she was. Her chest bones visible, her extremities fragile, part of me was extremely envious. Around her I wanted to put on my enormous hoodie and hide my disgusting body. She was tiny, I was jealous. I wished I was that thin, that fragile, that skinny. Later, when they returned, I noticed she was bald. I had failed to notice that earlier, being so entirely consumed by her tiny body and protruding bones. I had wished, envied and gawked over someone’s tiny body, somebody, who had been consumed by cancer. How sick is that?! I had wished and wanted to look like a cancer patient. 

God I hate myself so much. 


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